Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Madagascar and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Severed Heads to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sarah Menescal,
Skaos,
The Angels of Light,
Hardrive,
Dorothy Ashby,
Stockholm Monsters,
New York Dolls,
Jimmy McGriff,
JFA,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Soulsonic Force,
Janne Schatter,
The Mummies,
The J.B.'s,
Supertramp,
Fear,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Roxette,
La Düsseldorf,
Guru Guru,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gang Starr,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bluetip,
Deepchord,
Lakeside,
Negative Approach,
The Cowsills,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lou Reed,
ABBA,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Dirtbombs,
Whodini,
Lucky Dragons,
The Fuzztones,
The Zeros,
Matthew Bourne,
Cluster,
Darondo,
The Gladiators,
Rosa Yemen,
Henry Cow,
The Misunderstood,
Kerrie Biddell,
Davy DMX,
Crispian St. Peters,
Spoonie Gee,
Magazine,
Fluxion,
The Happenings,
MC5,
Joensuu 1685,
The Smoke,
The Pop Group,
The Tremeloes,
The Gun Club,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The United States of America,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.